


Sea Legs

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bit of fluff with the Ponds at the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sea Legs

“Really?” Rory asks. “The beach? I feel like I should be genuinely worried about his health.”

“I was going to be more worried about his fashion sense,” Amy counters, shooting a nervous look down the nearest corridor to the wardrobe. “He'll never get all the sand out of that tweed. What did you have in mind?”

“Have you seen him walk?” Rory's rhetorical question is incredulous. “Respiratory bypass or no, he might drown if he tries to swim.”

“Maybe he won't.” Amy crosses her fingers.

“With his complexion? It might be worse if he stays in the sun. Especially,” he teases, “since we'll have used all the sunscreen up on you.”

“Only because we'll have used the first half of the bottle on your nose,” Amy flirts back. “Besides, you get to help.”

“Mum, dad,” River scolds them. “I'll make sure he doesn't come to any harm.” She rolls her eyes. “Seems to be my default setting,” she breezes, settling over by the console, tapping typewriter keys and adjusting the flow of Worcestershire sauce until the TARDIS lands. “Now, where is—Hel-lo, sweetie!”

The Doctor is wearing a Victorian-style one-piece men's swimsuit: the kind that goes down to the knee with dorkily-short sleeves. Still, the others have to admit, it does cling to his bony frame rather nicely, showing off lean muscles in a way that the tweed just doesn't.

The sombrero, on the other hand... “Ah-ah-ah,” the Doctor cautions River. “Family outing: no firearms.”

“When did I agree to that?” River asks, frowning.

“I'll tell you later.” He looks furtively at Amy and Rory. “When we're alone.”

“You wicked boy,” she smirks. Rory just sighs and shoulders their beach bag as Amy grabs the picnic basket.

***

Despite their worries, they actually have a ripping good time. Both couples studiously look the other way as sunscreen is rather liberally rubbed in. The Doctor builds a sand castle which he claims is bigger on the inside. Rory takes in a life-saving demonstration. And River and Amy stroll up the length of the strand and consider it a win when they only have to cold-cock one wolf-whistler.

“God, what a marvelous day,” Amy sighs. “I almost don't miss Scotland.”

“Who are you trying to fool,” River snorts as they mount the last dune on their trip home.

“Have you seen him?” Rory calls up to them, looking and sounding eerily like a worried father as his ice creams start to drip. “I just turned my back on him for a minute.”

“How did you lose the Doctor?” Amy cries, a little louder than necessary, just in case someone starts to think that they have lost a five-year-old and not their alien best friend.

“Fan out,” River advises. “We've just come this way and didn't see him.”

Amy takes one of the ice creams from Rory because she needs something to do with her hands and there's no sense letting it go to waste, and tries to eat it as nonchalantly as she can. He'll be just fine, she tells herself. He always is. Her eyes scan across the sand and the over the waves. Nobody looks like they're drowning. In fact, hardly anyone is in the water at all despite the calm of the bay except for someone zipping by, flutter kick frothing the water behind him. “Wait a bloody minute,” she mutters. “Doctor!” she cries. 

He evidently hears her, because he turns and swims to the shallows. “Pond! Water's lovely. You should come join me!” 

“Found him,” she calls to the others. The Doctor, puzzled, starts to wade out of the water and immediately stumbles on the sand. 

“He's not gasping for breath,” Rory observes.

“Of course not,” he replies quizzically. “Freestyle is a very efficient, fast stroke. Honestly, I should think you would know more about anatomy than that. Now, butterfly--”

River shuts him up before he can launch into a lecture on the history of aquatic athletics. “You can swim?”

“Of course I can swim.”

“But it involves you. Using your legs. Both of them. And your arms,” Amy prods his shoulder because damn, he should not look that good in an outmoded swimsuit, “At the same time. And remembering to breathe.”

“Honestly,” he says, “I'm a bit disappointed in the lot of you,” he concludes before setting off in a huff which would have been far more impressive had he not immediately tripped over a child's sand bucket. Rory helps him up as Amy tries not to laugh.

“Maybe you'd best demonstrate. Then explain how it is you can swim without mastering the simple art of walking.” River sets her hands on her hips.

The Doctor raises a pale eyebrow at them before yielding, and diving in to rip off a technically-flawless backstroke. “Not enough dimensions,” he explains. “Moving through water is more like moving through time, all those currents tugging at you, circling around and back into each other.”

“That is usually considered to be the hard part,” Rory notes dryly.

“Human,” the Doctor scoffs.

“I'm part Time Lord,” River reminds him. “I think you're just ridiculous.”

“That hardly needs debating,” Amy giggles. “Come on, let's get a funnel cake."


End file.
